


You Got the Peaches, I Got the Cream

by Lyra_Kero



Series: Bottom Keith Week fics [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: A little bit of a foot fetish, Domestic, Keith Can Cook, M/M, Smut, Wife Kink, idek, ish, this just got away from me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 18:57:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14837324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyra_Kero/pseuds/Lyra_Kero
Summary: Lance came home to a sight that's too sweet for words.





	You Got the Peaches, I Got the Cream

**Author's Note:**

> pfff so uh yea this started was gonna be a Foot Fetish thing but I realized that I can't actually write foot fetish to save my life?  
> But I liked how this started so I left it alone.  
> I wrote like 5 different things before settling on this...
> 
>  
> 
> Also uh, this and a few other fics I've posted were originally for Bottom Keith Week, but since I never heard anything about it and I realized that this week was supposed on the first I just decided yolo and posted the others already. I'll group them together in a Series. So enjoy this Day 3: Fetish fic I wrote?
> 
>  
> 
> Title is from Pour Some Sugar on Me by Def Leppard

Lance had to take pause at what he was seeing. Was this real? Really real? Really _really_ real? He didn’t know what to focus on first.

 

For one, Keith was barefoot. And Lance loved barefoot Keith. He was barefoot, his toes painted a pretty periwinkle blue and a thin silver chain looped around his right ankle (Lance felt a rush of affection as he recognized it as the one he bought Keith on Valentine’s Day, the tiny white-gold heart resting against his ankle bone) as he stood up on the balls of his feet, reaching into one of the cupboards for a plate. Lance watched as one of those feet raised off the floor, toes curling and wiggling and Lance wanted them in his mouth five hours ago.

But no. No, there could be a time to worship and shower love on those pretty, dainty feet later. Lance pried his eyes off those little piggies and instead took in just what Keith was wearing.

 

Now Keith’s worn a lot of things, and Lance has seen Keith in a lot of things. Lance has seen Keith in his normal clothes; all black attire with one or two pieces of colored clothes that pop out on his pale body. Large hoodies and plaid t-shirts and skinny jeans. Lance has seen Keith in short shorts, like the one he’d been given to by Allura when she didn’t want them anymore, the two often sharing pants since their hips and thighs were similar in size and shape. Come summer time, Lance loved seeing Keith ditch his jeans to show off those legs and beautiful thighs in those shorts. He’d seen Keith in just his underwear and one of Lance’s shirts that were just too large on him and just covered his round, grabbable ass until Keith raised his arms. Then that ass was in full, glorious view. He’s seen Keith in absolutely nothing at all.  
But he’s never seen Keith in _this_.

 

 _This_? This was a dress. A blue dress, slightly darker than the color that was currently painted on those tiny toes. From the back, Lance could see the thin straps that hung over his shoulders, the way the dress clung and hugged Keith all the way down to his hips before it poofed out and down to his mid-thighs. He could see the bits of white lace that decorated the hems and the white polka-dots that it was patterned with, as well as a large white bow in the back.

Lance could see that Keith’s hair had been pulled back into a ponytail and when his boyfriend turned around Lance was pretty fucking sure he was dead. He never made it home. He was in a car accident and died and this was Heaven because Keith had pinned his bangs back with blue hair clips, had a pearl necklace around his throat and his eyes were framed with mascara and eyeliner.  
And Lance was also pretty sure Keith was wearing lipstick judging by the pinker tint to those lips.

 

And that was before Keith smiled. Because when he smiled, Lance knew for a fact that if he wasn’t dead then he was going to die. He could feel the blood that had painted his cheeks red now quickly rushing south and pooling low in his gut.

“You’re early, darling.” he said, and Lance wants to say he made a dignified response, but the only thing that escaped him was a wheeze. Keith giggled, _fucking giggled_ , and turned fully and _fuck_. The white bow was actually attached to a frilly apron and Lance was gone. In an instant he had crowded Keith up to the counter, hands at his boyfriend’s waist, and mouth attached to his neck. “I,” his breath hitched as he brought his hands up to tangle through the taller man’s hair, “I take it you like?”

“Where…” Lance’s voice broke as he instead gestured his hand towards the clothes his boyfriend was wearing. “Why…”  
“You said you’d been interested in this kind of thing.” Keith said, his voice doing a wonderful job of staying steady, but his blush was giving away his nerves, “So I… I-I wanted to surprise you. Happy Birthday?” The way his voice lilted, ending it in a question made Lance laugh as nuzzle into his neck. The shorter man relaxed, leaning into him more.

Lance could absolutely die happy like this.

“My beautiful wifey.” Lance whispered, kissing up his neck, across his jaw and nipped at Keith’s ear, causing him to whine out in want. “So pretty and perfect. Were you making dinner?”  
“M-hmm.” Keith hummed in response, his hands gripping tighter to the short strands of hair. “Wanted to make my darling’s birthday special. So I made your favorite.” Lance’s eyes trailed over to the stove, feeling his heart swell when he saw the recipe cards his mother had given him, handwritten with love and well used throughout the years. He could smell the spices coming out of the pot on the stove, the smell of the freshly baked garlic knots that were cooling off to the side. And there was something else in the air. Something sweet.

 

But Lance felt hungry for something else right now. And he moved his hands down Keith’s hips, planting kisses against his pale neck, nipping at the flesh. Keith’s eyes fluttered closed as his head tilted back. “Your dinner will get cold.” he said, breathlessly protesting but made no move to pull away.  
“My beautiful wife’s been working hard all day, though.” Lance whispered, his voice husky. “Let me take care of you.” A kiss against his jaw seemed to melt the shorter man, and he nodded weakly. Tan hands gently moved down, sliding up under the dress’s skirt and over his thighs, both cursing the lack of underwear for him to snap and revelling in the uninterrupted expanse of flesh when he grabbed two large handfuls of ass. His eyes flicked down, seeing Keith’s hands tighten and twist into the pretty apron he wore, and soon pulled his hands back, gathering up the lower half of the dress, tugging it up and into those hands, watching as his fingers soon gripped onto the fabric, holding it in place.

 

“Lance,” Keith’s breath hitched as he was spun around, his body leaning towards the countertop as two tan hands gripping tight on his hips. “T-there’s a pie in the oven.” That would be what that sweet smell was. “It’s going to be ready in thirty minutes.” He looked over his shoulder and shuddered when Lance kissed the back of his neck before lowering down to his knees, spreading apart his cheeks and planted a kiss just above the shiny red base of a plug. He licked at his lips, smiling at the taste of the faint peach-flavored lube, and slowly began to tease the object out, reveling in the quiet gasps that pulled from Keith’s throat. 

“I guess I get thirty minutes to have this dessert, first.”


End file.
